My oldest daughter begins middle school this year. That’s right. She officially moves into that dreaded territory that I refer to as the “Jan Brady Years.” For those that don’t get the reference, Jan Brady was the middle child in the 70s TV show The Brady Bunch. She wasn’t the pretty and popular one – that was the oldest daughter, Marcia. She wasn’t the cute little one – that was the youngest daughter, Cindy. Jan was the awkward middle child. The one that no one wanted to be.
 
So, middle school is the “Jan Brady Years.” Very few people look back on their life and say, “Man, middle school was the best time of my life!” I certainly don’t. Which is one of the reasons that I wanted to teach middle schoolers: to help students do the best they can to survive and perhaps (at times) even enjoy these three years of their life.
 
And when I harkened back recently to those often dark days to come up with some tips for C, I thought about the things that I wish I had known back then. Below is what I came up with. And yes, I am aware that middle school in my day, the 1600s, was vastly different than middle school now – but middle schoolers, in most ways, are still the same. So here are the things I wish I’d known in middle school:
 
1. No one is actually cool. Yes, some middle schoolers are cool compared to their middle school brethren, but that’s like being the best fish in a pond full of dogs.
 
2. Keep your friends close. What’s worse than being in middle school? Going through it alone. Find one or two people that you know you can play with, talk to, hang out with, and trust – and don’t let them go. Forgive them when they do something dumb. And if those real friends aren’t considered cool? See number 1.
 
3. Being clean and not smelling bad is a good thing. Bathe. With soap. Wash your hair. Wear deodorant. (Of note, cologne is not deodorant. Spraying forest scent over odor just creates a scent that’s akin to a forest where everything in the world dies, decomposes, and evacuates all of their waste.)
 
4. Know that you’re not alone. Every single one of your peers is struggling to get through these years, no matter what you see on the outside. Think of clowns here.
 
5. If you are lucky enough to have a supportive and loving family (like I was), embrace them. Talk to them. They are your shelter through rough times and your biggest fans in the good times. The instinct here is to shun your family and run to your friends. Fight that urge. Most friends come and go, while family (however you define it) is always there.
 
6. Be the friend you wish everyone would be. The whole “Do unto others” thing? Pretty spot on.
 
7. Avoid having braces in middle school if possible. Trust me on this one. It just adds another name for you to be called.
 
8. Learn to laugh at yourself and don’t be easily offended. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to practice both of these.
 
9. Stand up for yourself. And others. The only reason that bullies do what they do is because people let them. If everyone stopped standing silently by, there would be no bullies.
 
10. Don’t isolate yourself. Join groups, don’t hide in the library, talk to new people, make yourself uncomfortable, be a part of stuff. In the end, you’ll be happier that you did.
 
11. Know that middle school won’t be awful. Sure, there will be bad moments, even really bad ones. But there will also be good moments, even great ones. Yes, I wasn’t a fan of middle school overall, but some of the best times of my youth happened during those years.
 
12. No matter what, be you. Don’t let the world silence you or take away your joy, hope, passion, empathy, or fun. You define who you are and own it.
 
When you’re an adult, your middle school years will be but a distant memory. You will recall some things about this time, good and bad, but those memories will not feel as important or as permanent as they will while you’re going through it. And you will get through it. And, who knows, you may actually enjoy it. 
 
If you don't enjoy it, keep this in mind: Even Jan Brady eventually made it out of the “Jan Brady Years.”
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I’ve never been a fan of curtain calls. I used to say that that it was because I wanted to “maintain the truth of the world we created onstage,” which sounded sort of cool in my head. But then I realized that I really just didn’t want to go back out there because I thought my smile would be weird. 

Another thing that troubled me about curtain calls (besides my potentially weird smile) was that no matter how the performance went, we would always get applause. Sometimes we’d even get a standing ovation, whether or not the performance actually deserved one. 

Now I include a talk about curtain calls early on in all my acting classes. I tell my actors that no matter how good or bad the performance is, their audience (usually parents, relatives, or friends) will applaud for them. But then I tell them not to be satisfied with something they’re guaranteed to get. I want them to know that they deserve the curtain call. So after that talk, my job becomes putting them in a position to “deserve the applause” – while at the same time, taking the focus off the applause. 

So how do we accomplish this apparent contradiction? By stressing certain key points that I believe are vital for young actors. Or really, for any actors. Here’s a partial list, in no particular order.

1. Memorizing lines is no big deal. It’s one of the most basic things an actor does. It’s a starting point, like memorizing your multiplication facts. It’s just something you do. Early on, we praise young actors entirely too much for their ability to memorize their lines. Yes, it makes them feel good, but it also makes them think it’s a big deal and to some, something that’s “difficult.” But it’s not. You simply put in the time and get it done. As soon as you get the script in your hand and know your character, you memorize your lines.
2. There are small parts. If you look at amount of lines or time onstage, there is no way you can convince a student that there are no small parts. And yes, it troubles me when people count their lines – even though I used to do the same thing. But to tell them that all parts are the same in importance is a lie. At a company, not everyone is the boss. Not everyone is the queen ant. But it’s important to recognize that all the employees are vital for the job that they do. If not, they would be let go. Without the worker ants, the queen wouldn’t survive. Likewise, a character wouldn’t be included if the playwright didn’t feel like they were a vital part of the story. Are they as important as the lead? Maybe not. But they’re vital to the story, and in the end that’s what matters. It’s not your feelings about the part you were given. You have to trust that you’re in the exact place you need to be to tell the best story onstage. And your job is to bring that character to life in the most amazing way possible, whether you have 84 lines or 3. And that’s coming from someone who dreamed of a lead role in All My Sons and ended up as Frank Lubey.
3. Focus on your character, not yourself. Feeling self-conscious or nervous onstage? That’s because your focus is in the wrong place: It’s on you, not your character. When you put your focus on the character instead of on your own feelings, and work for their wants or needs instead of your own, something awesome happens. The nervousness and the self-consciousness disappear. Why? Because bringing the focus to your character’s wants and needs means that you’re actively working for something – even when you’re not speaking.

A side note:  To be able to do this, you must actually know what your character wants. That’s why we do character bios and spend a lot (perhaps too much) time talking about the characters. But in the end, the more you know about the character you’re playing, the easier you’ll find it to immerse yourself in the world of your character instead of your own. 

   4.  Come through. Your fellow actors must be able to trust you, to know that you will do everything you can to come through for them, for yourself, and for the play. That means doing the work before rehearsals, doing the work while at rehearsals, and doing the work after rehearsals. It doesn’t mean never making a mistake. It means setting up yourself and your other actors to have the best chance of success. That’s the only way that you can truly take an audience on a journey through the world and events of your play. What people sometimes don’t realize at first is that the majority of that trust is developed offstage, even (especially) when you’re not at rehearsal. In class, in the hall, wherever you see each other, you are always creating either a community of trust or one of distrust. And only one of those creates success.
5.  When you’re onstage, don’t act. It’s one of the worst things you can do. When I first tell my actors this, they often stare at me with confused looks and then one will say “But aren’t we actors?” Then I explain that sure, you’re actors. Off the stage. When you’re doing the work, learning the basic tools that will allow you to interact with the audience during the show. That’s the performance aspect. And if you develop those skills, they should be an afterthought during the show, because you will just automatically do those things – they should become as automatic as locking the door without actually remembering doing it.

But onstage, you are your character and you must respond as such. You listen. You respond. You work for your character’s goals and wants. You forget what’s going to happen, because this is the first time any of this has happened. You can’t plan how you’re going to say something or how you’re going to respond or listen only for your cues, because the moment you do any of that, it becomes a performance and the truth of the moment, the show, evaporates. Maybe not for your audience, but for you and your character.

Those are just a few of the things that my actors and I discuss. Are they difficult to accomplish? Absolutely. But my goal isn’t for them to actually accomplish them. If they do, awesome. But really, it’s all about being aware of them, working to accomplish them, and getting better at them each time. To me, it’s not about the end result. Or even the performance. It’s about the process. And if you focus on the process and work hard, the performance will always take care itself. 

And the actors will know that they deserve that curtain call. ​


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​I love Mickey’s Christmas Carol, and if I reviewed it like I do other Christmas specials, I would only gush about how great it is – so instead, I’ll talk about . . . casting decisions.
 
In the original opening, Mickey explains that he and his friends performed a version of Dickens’s Christmas Carol. (This intro is often left out on TV now.) It was a much shorter version – some script cuts were necessary (made by Mickey, who also served as director) – but still manages to hit the high points. The question is: Did Mickey get the casting correct? Let’s take a look.
 

​Scrooge McDuck as Ebenezer Scrooge
Obvious choice, with his name being what it is. Did I feel like Scrooge merely plays himself? At times (though his happy skipping near the end and the line “I’m going to make you my partner” feel authentic). The major impact of this casting decisions is that Mickey Mouse is not the lead. Did he do it to put the show first or did he really have no choice (because of the name thing)? I don’t know because he declined my many requests for comment. It did, however, have ramifications for another well-loved mouse. More on that soon . . . 

Mickey Mouse as Bob Cratchit
Mickey pretty much plays Mickey in this movie, kind of like a mouse version of Kevin Costner. But I really like his version of the ever cheerful but put-upon Bob Cratchit. It has a level of depth that is not normally associated with Mickey. His tear in the final scene while putting Tiny Tim’s tiny cane on his grave . . . wow. Just wow. 

Donald Duck as Fred
Okay, I get it. Donald had to be Fred once his uncle was cast in the role of . . . his uncle. To me, Donald has always been ill-tempered, destined to be that old drunk duck at the bar talking of days gone by when he was a success. Only no one would understand him – and not because he’s drunk, but because he’s hasn’t learned how to speak clearly. How does he have a career? I mean, explain to me how his uncle and Daisy can speak perfect English but Donald’s speech is still duck-like? Is there no voice training at Disney? The only line I can clearly understand is “I will! I will!” They even had to cut Fred’s famous monologue – and no, it wasn’t a time issue. It was a Donald issue. 

​Goofy as Jacob Marley
I’ve always appreciated Goofy’s work for what it is. He’s limited but likeable. That being said, he was horribly miscast as Marley. There is no way that Scrooge would have worked with someone as inept as Goofy’s version of Marley. Even if he had, Scrooge and Marley would’ve been out of business in days. Who should have been Marley, you ask? Pete, who would have been awesome in that role. But more on Pete later.
 
(P.S. Why isn’t Goofy called Goofy Dog? I mean, you have Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Minnie Mouse, Jiminy Cricket and countless others with a last name of their species. Is it perhaps because we don’t want the audience making the connection that Goofy and Pluto are actually the same animal, but one gets to speak and wear pants, while one gets to live in a dog house and be the pet of a giant mouse?

​Jiminy Cricket as the Ghost of Christmas Past
Jiminy, who was more popular in Disney’s classic era, was probably hoping that this performance would lead to a career resurgence, a la Betty White’s role in Lake Placid, but alas – it did not happen. But he’s made a nice career of playing the wise cricket nonetheless. 

​Daisy Duck as Belle
Much like Donald, this was the only role she could be cast in. Unlike Donald, she nailed this role. She plays the early Belle, before Scrooge finds another love, with a sense of childlike innocence and hope, and then manages to bring some anger when Scrooge chooses money over her.
 
(By the way, can we talk about the lack of roles for women in this production? There are only two females in it, and only one of them has a speaking part. Why didn’t Minnie say something to Mickey about this? Or wait, maybe she did. That would explain what happened to Mrs. Cratchit’s lines.)

 Morty Fieldmouse as Tiny Tim
Super cute. The Michelle Tanner of the cast, and it works. He’s my second favorite Tiny Tim. After Robin Frog in A Muppet Christmas Carol, of course.

​Pete as the Ghost of Christmas Future
Pete is amazing in this role. Hands down, the best GoCF ever to don those robes, which doesn’t actually say much when you consider that none of the others talk. That being said, he was still the best. However, I do feel that this classically trained actor gets typecast too often in villainous type roles, which means he’s seldom used to the fullest extent of his talent.  Yes, he has carved out a nice little niche career as the foil to everyone – but clearly he wants more. And I want more for him. Unfortunately, as long as Mickey’s in charge, he will be stuck in these types of roles. At least he nailed the best line in the story . . . “Why yours, Ebenezer. The richest man in the cemetery!” He, my friend, is destined for the bright lights of Broadway once he breaks free of the shackles of the great mouse.  Here’s hoping it happens sooner rather than later.

​Minnie Mouse as Mrs. Cratchit
Is Mrs. Cratchit a mute in Dickens’s novel? No, she is not. But in this production, she is. Zero lines. None whatsoever. Minnie’s talents, and the character of Mrs. Cratchit, have never been so underutilized as they are here. She’s nothing more than scenery, much like Mr. Toad, who plays Fezziwig. So Mrs. Cratchit comes off as docilely accepting of her fate instead of that spunky woman who exclaims “Founder of the feast, indeed!” when Bob gives thanks to Scrooge. And Minnie would’ve have nailed that line. Perhaps Mickey and Minnie were having relationship issues at the time. Maybe about Mickey’s lack of casting females. 

A Charlie Brown Christmas, based on the much-loved Charles Schultz comic strip Peanuts, comes on TV tonight on CBS. Many people view it as a classic Christmas tale, and I support their right to that opinion.  I, though I watch it every year and own a copy (perhaps two), am not really a fan because I find Charlie tiresome, self-absorbed, and way too much into this whole martyr thing. (Note: I don't always feel this way about Charles Xavier Brown. Sometimes, gasp, I identify with him. Not here though.) If the special focused less on Charles (perhaps have him switch places with Marcy and simply call it "Marcy's Christmas,) and more on Snoopy, or on the rehearsals and production of what will clearly be a disappointing retelling of the Nativity, or pretty much anything besides the three-haired wonder, would be fantastic. That being said, I pulled out my DVD copy and decided to re-watch and revisit Charlie and his non-pals to see if perhaps I could discover the magic and the meaning that so many other people found in this tale.  So without further ado . . . The 12 Observations of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

​Observation 1:  As a lead for a Christmas special, Charlie is, at best, questionable.
His first grimace occurs before the show even starts and then pretty much doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the show. And he complains. A lot. About everything. But never asks what he can do for someone else. Good grief, indeed. 

​Observation 2:  What’s my motivation? I have no clue, Charlie Brown.
Is he trying to find the true meaning of Christmas, or he is lashing out about the commercialism of Christmas? It alternates throughout. If his motivation is to make Christmas less commercial, then one would think he already knows what Christmas is all about. But he says he doesn’t. Or does he? I have no idea.

​Observation 3: Never mock someone who doesn’t give you a Christmas card.
Early on in this melancholy tale, Charlie walks to his mailbox, opens it, and it’s empty. He then talks about how he doesn’t need a reminder that no one likes him. (Somewhere, his loyal and saintlike friend Linus is crying loudly into his blue blanket.) Anyway, he sees Violet and thanks her for the Christmas card she sent him. She scoffs at him by saying she didn’t send him one, and he mocks her for not understanding sarcasm. I have a question for you, Chuck. How many Christmas cards did you send? 

Observation 4: This entire group knows nothing about putting on a play.
It’s clearly a few days before Christmas, which means that the play should have already happened – but since it hasn’t, surely they’re ready to perform. No, they are not. Amateurs. They don’t even have a director, until Lucy, trying to help Charlie (sounds like a friend thing to do), names him director of the Christmas play.
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What? How do you not have a director yet? Why haven’t you been rehearsing? Why don’t the actors have their parts or scripts yet? Why does Lucy have unilateral director-designating powers? Who let's a bunch of whatever-grade-they're-kids run loose in a theatre? Why did they cast someone as the “shepherd’s wife?” Where’s Franklin? 

​Observation 5: Charlie Brown sexist? 
As soon he becomes director, Charlie begins demeaning Lucy by calling her “script girl.” So . . . you’re calling the one who has the power to name you director and is currently the only one in town running her own business “script girl?” For shame, Chuckles.

​Observation 6: The first rehearsal goes poorly.
Shocking. But Charlie Brown does exactly what any good director in his shoes would do: He goes to buy a Christmas tree. Wait, that’s not what a good director would do. A good director would, I don’t know, come up with a plan and rehearse the actual play. 

​Observation 7: Charlie really needs to appreciate what he has more.
If the message of this fable is that we need to stop wanting for what we don’t have and appreciate what we do have, then that’s a good message. Charlie has the best friend that anyone could ever ask for (no, not you, Snoopy. You’re kind of the opposite of man’s best friend) in Linus and all he thinks about is the people that don’t like him. I hope he at least sent Linus a Christmas card. 

​Observation 7: It’s “Christmas tree,” not “Christmas branch.”
You had one job, sir. To get a stinking Christmas tree. A good one. Sure, you were bothered that the other kids wanted an “aluminum tree” – but let’s face facts, you said you would get a tree. A Christmas tree. And you did not. Despite Linus’s warning, you got a Christmas branch. Why? Because clearly you know better than everyone. And then you’re shocked – SHOCKED – when your friends bash your branch tree. Sorry, Charlie, consider that bashing deserved

​Observation 9: Did anyone read the script of this play?
After his choice of trees is ridiculed, Charlie laments that he doesn’t know what Christmas is about. So Saint Linus calls for the lights (Who’s running the lights? Woodstock, perhaps? Or is that where Franklin’s hiding?) and begins to recite the story of the nativity. And that allows Chuck to understand Christmas. But wait: Aren’t they doing the nativity play? Shouldn’t he already have read this story in the script that he’s directing? Shouldn’t everyone in the play have been able to tell him? 

But at least Charlie gets the message of what Christmas is about. Oh wait, he doesn’t. He makes it about proving that he was right to buy a branch for a tree? Am I missing something? Wait, is this branch a metaphor for baby Jesus? Well, this story is way deeper than I thought. Though now I keep envisioning a branch wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger, which is weird. Anyway, Chuck takes his branch home and all of the kids follow him. Am I the only one that cares about the need to rehearse? I hope you’re not charging for this “play” because it will be terrible. Terrible, I say!

​Observation 10: Branches are not meant to hold ornaments.
Charlie gets home and notices that Snoopy won the decorating contest. Is he happy for his dog? Impressed that a dog can even decorate a dog house? Of course not. He then proceeds to take an ornament off Snoopy’s house and put it on his branch, and the branch topples. Charlie says that he broke it. Well, actually you just bent it, and if you took the ornament off . . . never mind. 

​Observation 11: His friends are magic.
The friends arrive and see that the “tree” is bent over. Seriously, guys, you can just take the ornament off. Linus wraps his blanket around the branch and says that he always thought it was a good tree. Did you really, Linus? Then the gang steals all of Snoopy’s ornaments (Does no one understand how awesome and improbable it is that a dog decorated a house?) and turns Charlie’s branch into a full-grown Christmas tree.  See? Magic. 

​Observation 12: We finally have a nice moment.
Charlie comes out, sees the tree and is shocked. I am too, Charlie. Then the others wish Charlie a merry Christmas and sing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” Finally, a sweet moment. And their rendition of the song is flawless. Clearly, they rehearsed this song. Unlike the play. 

Well, those are my 12 observation A Charlie Brown Christmas. And after pondering it more . . . I’m still not much of a fan, though I will continue to watch it every Christmas. Why? No idea. Or perhaps it's simply because that's what you do at Christmas. Besides, you know, like the other stuff. 

Today, my oldest daughter started 5th grade. Back when she started 3rd grade, I gave her a list of “Do’s.” I didn’t give her a list last year, and her 4th-grade year was awful. Just awful. (I’m kidding. She had a great year.) But I decided to update my list anyway, to make sure that her 5th grade year is all that it can be.

I hope you’ll find that this list of “do’s” doesn’t just apply to Chloe: It applies to all kids, whatever their age.

1. Do make the most out of your moments. You’re only in 5th grade once. Hopefully.
2. Do continue to be excited about school and learning. Both are awesome. Avoid the noise that says they’re not. Not only will they both help you have a chance at a successful future; learning new things has always been, and will always be, really cool. The more you know . . .
3. Do make eye contact when talking to your friends and teachers, or really to anyone. It doesn’t count if you’re making eye contact with the floor, the ceiling, or a person you’re not actually talking to. Eye contact is a way to show your confidence, a way to connect, and a way to demonstrate that you realize who you’re talking to.
4. Do be there for your peers when they’re struggling. Maybe they’re angry. Or sad. Or both. Or neither. Perhaps they’re just having an off day. Now is the time to talk to them – this is their last year before the dreaded “middle school.” Talk with them about how they’re beginning to face huge academic pressures, their peer group is now becoming more important than their family, their adult teeth will be growing in and may appear too big for their face, and they’re starting to feel pressure to be considered “normal.” On the other hand, instead of talking about any of that, maybe just ask them to play.
5. Do remember to keep perspective when you think about your day. Not every moment of your day is going to be great. There will be times when you make the wrong choice, or someone hurts your feelings, or you come up short at something you were really excited about. But this does not mean it was a bad day. It means it was a day that had its bad moments and its good moments – also known as “every day of your life.” But remember too that it’s okay to be sad. And then move on.
6. Do be the one to talk to the kid who’s standing (or sitting) alone. And not just because you could be that lonely kid one day (and you will be, because everyone is). You do it because it’s the right thing to do, and the world needs more people doing the right thing.
7. Do listen more than you talk. You can learn so much about others and the world when you do.
8. Do continue to define who you are by who you really are. Not by your gender, not by other people’s opinions, not by society’s standards (they’re pretty dumb anyway). The greatest gift you can give to yourself is to be true to who you really are. This also helps your friends because you give them permission to do the same thing.
9. Do take the focus off yourself. And your worries. And tomorrow. Put it on the moment, your work, others, the world, etc. Your life will be better for it.
10. Do not be afraid to stand alone. Because sometimes you’ll have to. And it’s not a bad thing.
11. Do know that at the end of your day, when you come home, you have a family that loves you very much and will always be there for you. Always. Unless we’re at the store or something.
12. And finally, do continue to believe in everything that you believe in now. No matter what people might tell you, there is plenty of magic in the world. And believing in that magic, having that sense of wonder, is the key to waking up and seeing all the beauty in the world, and the opportunities that this life offers. Believe when others tell you not to, believe when you don’t want to, believe when it’s easy and believe when it’s not. Believe.