Let 'em Make Mistakes

It's a quiet Saturday morning. I'm back in my apartment, drinking a second cup of coffee and listening to Rascal Flatts sing about how they're going to drive the highway of life "all night long." So far today, the car has been taken in for an estimate on replacing the bumper (over $1000 and seven days), replacement parts have been purchased for the backdrop at my local hardware store, emails have been read, bathrooms have been cleaned, dishes have been washed and sheets have been changed. Life feels somewhat settled.

And I'm thinking about the show.

One thing I've observed in the two weeks I've been out is the seeming lack of creativity that so many of the kids I meet possess. Michael had warned me about this in rehearsal, but I don't think it really hit home until the other day. I know that what I am about to write is a gross generalization (and I do know many elementary school students who are creative risk-takers, and for them I am very thankful), but allow me the indulgence to consider this for a moment.

During both Musical Health Show and Lighten Up!, there are significant audience participation moments. For Musical Health Show, I have the kids come up onstage and, one by one, shout out the words "I Will Never Smoke," and then later others come up and demonstrate five elements of physical fitness. For Lighten Up!, we talk about the ways advertisers sell their products, and I have the kids demonstrate different tactics (celebrity endorsements, movie tie-ins etc.)

It all hit home the other day during Lighten Up!. After the two boys I picked to be my celebrity football players eagerly picked their favorite players (Eli and Peyton Manning), I asked them to show me their "best football stars." Now, this was something I knew they could do. One was wearing a Steelers jersey and the other had a wristband with the Jets logo on it. However, it took three tries before one of them told me, point-blank, "I don't want to do it wrong." I finally had to turn to the audience for suggestions (I got everyone to do their favorite football pose to spark some ideas). After two meager, somewhat-uncommitted poses, we moved on. And I figured that this would be an isolated incident, just two fourth graders who didn't want to look silly.

But when my other two volunteers (both younger) couldn't come up with the name of any movie superheroes or give me a butterfly pose, I started to get worried.

This has happened before (albeit to a lesser degree), and it makes me wonder what's going on. My good friends Joanna and Matt have suggested that it has something to do with kids not wanting to embarrass themselves or do it "wrong," and I think that that is certainly part of it. Kids are under so much pressure to get things "right," that I'm afraid it's started to stifle some of their creative impulses -- the ability to make a mistake, do something silly and have fun in the process. The default answer seems to be, "I don't know," with the expectation that the adult will give them the answer. (I've also seen this happen while working at the Zoo.) I remember the great reward I felt that first time I got up in front of my entire school, took a risk, did something silly and had everyone laugh and clap for me. It was inspiring, and is likely what set me on the career path I have chosen. And, of course, not everyone is destined to be an actor, but we've got to allow the room to explore, take a chance, be wrong, and learn that we can recover from mistakes. Otherwise, I'm afraid we're going to wind up with a society of nervous perfectionists. Which makes for a rather boring world.

I realize my show is, first and foremost, about health. But there's a small part of me that hopes my antics (and the mistakes I make, acknowledge, and recover from in nearly every show; I will admit that it's not a perfect show, but I think that that's part of the fun of it) will allow the kids I reach to see that it's OK to not be perfect, to act silly and to get things wrong. And, maybe, someday, one of those little kids I get onstage will decide he wants to don the bodysuit and encourage others across the country to eat well, live well and (most importantly) HAVE FUN!!

Call tomorrow: TBD. I am driving to Wilmington, DE in prep for an early show on Monday in Maryland.

Kid quote of the day: When I asked the audience what moves a bone, all 400 kids shouted, "We do." Which, I guess, is true. So I went with it.

Trial and Error

One of the nice things about being the only person on this tour is that the show is entirely mine. Meaning, as was pressed home to me by my director, that I can change the show however I need to ensure that the audience enjoys themselves and receives the information. You see, I am both stage manager and actor, so the stage manager half of my brain is always checking with the actor half of my brain to make sure that any changes are consistent with the goals of the presentation. This is a nice amount of leeway, and one I am not used to having.

For one of the shows today, I decided it might be prudent to make a few small changes to the show. I was performing at a very nice elementary school on Long Island, where I had a very, VERY strange age split: my first show was kindergarten, first and fourth grades, while my second was second, third and fifth grade. Both shows were Musical Health Show. Which was probably not an ideal choice for the second group, as I find my fifth graders generally stare at me angrily during this show, unless they have to be "cool" in front of the kindergartners. Which, of course, in this case, they didn't. My suggestions that the second show be changed to Lighten Up! fell on deaf ears, so I was headed into an audience that I knew was going to be hostile towards me.

So, I decided to make some changes.

Mostly it was small shifts. Instead of goofy, over-the-top Slim, I became more of a "Coach Slim," who still has fun, but is a little more grounded and mature. This gained me some brownie points, although I still had three fifth grade boys staring me down hardcore. I messed with some of the trivia facts I ask during the brain section (and learned that nobody besides me knows that FDR is on the dime), asked questions specifically of my older students and used slightly more technical language.

However, I did make one big addition. In homage to my director Michael, I decided to throw in a quick section about the diaphragm.

As a quick refresher, the diaphragm is a large, flat muscle down at the base of your lungs. When you inhale, your diaphragm contracts and draws breath into your lungs. When you take a low, deep breath, you'll notice that your tummy puffs out a little. That's your diaphragm pushing your internal organs out of the way as it contracts. So you can visualize, here's an image stolen from Wikipedia:



(For all this information, I have the CAP21 voice faculty to thank).

Anyway, right after the heart section, I have my audience take a nice deep breath. One thing I have noticed is that little kids seem to think a deep breath means raising your shoulders. And, true to form, my entire audience looked like neckless monsters after my suggestion.

So, I stopped the show.

"Who knows what the second-hardest working muscle in your body is called?" I asked. After a few suggestions (including biceps, lips and tongue), I revealed the diaphragm and pointed it out on my suit. I had the audience practice taking deep breaths using their diaphragm and shallow breaths with their shoulders. We mirrored the diaphragm with our hands (making a tent on the exhale, and flattening out on the inhale). Finally, once I was convinced that my audience had gotten the point (about two minutes later), I asked everyone to take a nice deep breath.

Every shoulder in the audience shot up.

Oh well. I tried.

Call tomorrow: 8:30am. I'm driving all the way to Syracuse and back in one day. It's gonna be a long one.

Kid quote of the day: As a response to my question about the second-hardest working muscle in the body (the first, by the way, is the heart), a second grader responded, "The brain."

XRBOT Down! XRBOT Down!

This post takes a little explaining. First, meet my (er, Slim's) robot assistant XRBOT, in his full form:



XRBOT is a wise-cracking robot, Slim's friend and sidekick. In Musical Health Show, he's on a joke kick, and interjects every once in a while with an endearing witticism that help move the show along. In Lighten Up!, he's a researcher who connects everything the kids learn back to our mission of health (and sends it to our protagonist, 10 year-old JJ).

He's also inflatable. And therein lies the rub.

Today's 8:45am already seemed to be showing signs of XRBOT's fatigue. After a chilly night in the trunk, he was a little deflated. No matter, I thought, and I dutifully blew him up. And he was OK, for about the first 10 minutes. Mid-heart section, however, I looked over, and realized that XRBOT had slumped significantly. By the time I was at the Bone Rap, XRBOT's head was hanging off of his table, his arms had collapsed and he looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. I quickly found a way to squirrel him offstage and tried to inflate him without being too obvious, but it was no good. We rode out the rest of the show together and, after the kids exited the space, I took a look at my poor, addled 'bot. Turned out, a patch job from earlier had loosened itself too much, causing the slumping and the leakage. Back at the car, I grabbed one of the spare robots, fitted it with XRBOT's accessories, and started driving to my next show, sure this one would not be troubled by robo-shrinkage.

When I turned around to ask XRBOT about his elephant-brain joke (the punchline is, "You've got a lot on your mind"), I was greeted by a puddle of flashing plastic. Today, it seemed, was not a good day for Ethan and inflatables.

So, at my Radisson in Scranton, the robots got a bath:



With patches on their leaks (and new batteries, just to be safe), my XRBOTs are ready for action. And they've both promised to behave. I'm holding them to that.



Call tomorrow: 6am, Radisson in Scranton, PA. Two shows, then back to Brooklyn.

Kid quote of the day: "How many push-ups can you do?" "A hundred and... a lot."

"... and I can see Canada from my hotel"

Yep, Niagara Falls is up there. I mean WAY up there. So far up there, in fact, that the sidewalks had a good foot-and-a-half of snow on them when I arrived. (Thankfully, the streets had been plowed.) When I arrived at the Crowne Plaza, my favorite upscale hotel chain, I found myself in one of their super-deluxe rooms, with a view of the Canadian border out the window. Does this give me foreign policy experience? Can't decide.

My night was sweetened by a trip across the street to the Seneca Niagara casino, which constitutes my first trip to a casino, ever. And I did OK, I think. Careful with money by nature, the most I was willing to risk was $5 in the 2¢ slots. By the time I finished, I was up $1.02. I've decided that this is karma partially paying me back for Tuesday. However, at the same time, the whole experience was a little frightening and surreal: no clocks or windows, and rows of people sucking down cigarettes as they push the lighted buttons, hoping to hit it big. A small part of me wanted to go into the "I will never smoke" section from Musical Health Show (I get the kids to say it in English, and then we learn it in sign language), but I decided that this would not be prudent. Eventually, my winnings and I found our way back across the street and into my super-comfy bed. I was asleep within moments of hitting the pillow.



Next morning found me at a very small Catholic school. Which is, I recall from Max and Ruby, always an interesting proposition. On one hand, they are the best-behaved audience you will ever find. On the other hand, they're so well behaved that it can be like pulling teeth to get them to participate. These kids were a little quiet at the beginning, but I think I won them over. I was particularly impressed that my sixth graders in the back actually volunteered to come up onstage and participate. Even the adults, a few of whom were appeared skeptical at first, were with me by the end. "You've got so much energy," the contact told me. "Is that because you had three cups of coffee?" I refrained from answer.

On the way back home, I decided to play tourist and stop by the Falls. Indeed, it is the dead of winter, but how often does one make it to Niagara Falls? Anyway, I was just about the only person there, so I had my meditative, gathering moment, took some photos, waved at Canada (again) and began my return trip to Brooklyn. Where I arrived seven hours later.



Week 1 completed, and I'm still in one piece. Let's hope for less action next week.

Call tomorrow, er, Sunday: sometime mid-afternoon. I need to get up to Norwich, NY, so I'll be ready for an 8:45am. Yikes!

Kid quote of the day: Tiny little pre-K Joshua came up for the Champion's Challenge, one of the participative parts of Musical Health Show. I chose him to demonstrate his abilities in "strength." As I am wont to do, I asked him if he thought he was strong. Joshua's response: "Strong... like this," as curled his biceps and smiled wide. After he completed his push-up feat, he hugged me around the ankles and ran back to his seat. And, as everyone was filing out, I heard Joshua's voice: "Slim Goodbody's my friend."

Nostalgia Trip

I'm in Niagara Falls, NY, after a very long drive across most of the Empire State (and a stop at the base of the Adirondacks for a show). It was a much better driving day today: blue skies, dry roads, NPR stations all the way there. However, I think anything would have been better than yesterday. After being rear-ended, I was run off the road by a truck, which turned into a spin-out and sent me into a ditch. Had it not been for the very nice man with the 4-by-4 and a leather strap, I would probably still be there now.

On a brighter note, John Burstein, the original Slim Goodbody and my producer, called me from outside the country to check in, after hearing of my exciting drive through Pennsylvania. He also bought me dinner that night, and I dined on Linguini with Clam Sauce and Tuscan wine. Italian-American comfort foods. Which I really needed. Thanks John!

Anyway, the show today reminded me that Slim Goodbody is, for much of my audience, a fond nostalgia trip. Before today's performance, a young-ish teacher approached me as I was setting up and inquired if I was going to be doing the presentation. When I said that I was, she started to get really excited. "Slim Goodbody was one of my favorite shows growing up," she said. "Can I get a picture with you?"

When I started up the Musical Health Show (and, by the way, the handstand is back in, and garnered plenty of "Oohs" and "Aahs" from all ages), I was pleased to see that the kids were really excited and attentive. But I was most surprised to see the teachers chatting and excitedly pointing in the back. As I landed the final beat of the opening song, I caught a snip of conversation from one of the closest teachers: "I was a big Captain Kangaroo fan. Is the original guy still around?" Amazingly, at this show, there were times when the teachers were more excited to participate than the kids -- I actually wound up having a few teachers raise their hands when I asked for volunteers. And, afterward, one teacher eagerly pulled me aside and told me, in confidence, that "I was so excited to hear that Slim Goodbody was coming to our school! I wish he was still on TV!"

So, I guess, I'm not just playing for the recommended K-6 age ranges. For a sizable chunk of the audience, my shows are a trip down memory lane. Some of the songs, and some of Slim's bits, are pulled directly from the early TV show, and that causes a sort-of recognition. And, now that I'm starting to get a little more comfortable with the show, I'm starting to enjoy watching my audience respond to me. There's the expected shock at the top of the show (Michael and I put in a five second "moment for the costume" immediately after I enter) but, generally, shock quickly gives way to smiles, laughter, some pointing and, for many, a momentary return to their childhood days. Which is certainly not something I anticipated.

Call tomorrow: 8:20am, Crowne Plaza parking lot.

Kid quote of the day: As my audience filed in, I hid behind the backdrop. Apparently, I was sort-of in view for a small segment of my audience at one point, because a very observant little girl screached, "I see a shoe! A shoe!! And a leg!! TWO LEGS!!!"

Bam!

Recall from yesterday's post that the show today was sorta TBD, dependent on weather in PA. You see (and my Northeast readers are already well-aware of this fact), my entire touring territory is currently under a Winter Weather Advisory. A big one. So big, in fact, that my contact informed me that my show would probably be canceled. "I'll call you around 5am if it is," she told me. "Otherwise, just assume we're still expecting you." Since the show was a six hour drive from my hotel (on freeways that were under "snow" conditions), I was hoping for a snow day myself.

When my alarm when off at 5am, there was no message.

When I checked online at 5:30am, the website reported a two-hour delay.

When I got out to the car by 6am, there was no message.

After driving for about two-and-a-half hours on slick freeways dotted with snowplows and spun-out cars, I finally got a text message from my contact:

"belle vernon closed. we will need to reschedule. thanks be careful"

I hightailed it off the interstate, called the office to let them know what was up, and headed my way to a Starbucks (thanks to my trusty GPS; love this thing!) It was only 8:35am, so I had plenty of time to get to my next hotel, and could even run some show-related errands. So nice to have an unexpected free, relaxing day.

Or so I thought. Within 0.6 miles of the my destination (yay Garmin nüvi!), and while stopped at a red light, I was rear-ended by an SUV. BAM!

Now, for those of you who are worried, I am OK. Perhaps a little achy, but OK. My props and set all look OK. Her car is pretty much fine (her license plate fell off, I think). My poor little Honda Civic, however, looks like this:



Yeah.

Stephanie, my manager at the Slim Goodbody office, talked me down and helped me through the logistics of insurance and registration. The other driver was just as shaken as I, so we chatted and made each other comfortable in her car while we waited for the police to arrive. For my sanity -- and because I have almost 1000 miles of driving ahead of me before I get back to Brooklyn -- I had the car visually checked out at a local Honda dealership. So now it's back to the tour. I'm currently resting up at the originally-intended Starbucks, waiting out the worst of it before I head towards my hotel. Which has a whirlpool with my name on it...

Call tomorrow: 7:30am (or maybe 8am), Inn at Nichols Village. I'm off to the Adirondacks!

Police Officer Quote of the Day: "You have a bodysuit with organs in your car." "Yes officer, it must have fallen out of my bag." "I'm not going to ask..."

Wham!

Today began my first day with the other (and, by the look of my schedule, more popular) show, Musical Health Show. This one plays great with the little ones, and not-so-great with the older kids. Luckily, today, the max level I'd be seeing was second grade.

I was groggy when I woke up, and, after a quick drive to the first school (and an even quicker nap in the parking lot), I checked in, set up, changed and prepared for my room full of first graders. The contact was clearly very happy to have me there. Everything was going great! As I opened the curtain to reveal the set, the kids ooh-ed and ah-ed. When I first appeared in the costume, they laughed and pointed. As I started the opening number, they clapped along. It was starting out as a DREAM show.

Until the handstand.

In rehearsal, Michael asked me to come up with something impressive and funny for the end of the opening number. The lyrics -- "A body of wondrous possibilities / A body of numerous capabilities" -- seem to warrant something showy. After a few tries, we settled on a handstand into a round-off as my "super-capable" body demonstration. However, as I prepped the handstand, I started to sense something was awry. The stage was a bit narrower than I had originally noticed, so I backed myself up all the way to my drop and readied myself. Next thing I knew, I was face-down on the stage, with the entire backdrop (and frame!) on top of me. After crawling out from under the drop, I caught a glimpse of the audience: the kids howled and clapped; the teachers looked confused and nervous; the contact covered her face.

Once I regained my senses, I stopped my recorded track and asked for a few teachers to help me put my stage back together. I got the kids to do some interactive stuff as I assessed the damage. Seemed that a peg atop the frame had snapped, and there was nothing to do for this show to get the backdrop fully up. I rigged the drop so it would stay somewhat flat and continued on with the show. Which went great, especially when I got off the stage and actually entered the audience for high-fives and the quick-y running demonstration.

Needless to say, the handstand is temporarily on hiatus from the show.

Call tomorrow: 6:00am (pending weather conditions; big storm on the way and school may be canceled), parking lot of the Hilton Newark Airport. Yes, Hilton. Single room. And I'm not paying for it. This ain't no Theaterworks tour...

Kid quote of the day: (after the "Bone Rap" song) "I hurt my joint once," said a very excited little girl, as she pointed to her ear. Hmm...